Daughter of Regals

by Stephen R. Donaldson

  The Deep Forest was dim in the early light, and the noise of my wagon roused huge flocks of birds that cried out in anger at my intrusion. But I was content with their outrage. They were creatures of this dense and brooding wood; but I was not. I was Mardik the blacksmith, and I was on my way to teach the Lady in White the meaning of my desire. If the ravens of doom had come to bark about my ears, I would not have been dismayed.

  Also I was patient. My wagon was slow, and Leadenfoot had no love for this work; but the pace did not dishearten me. There was a long day before me, and I did not doubt that the Lady would be waiting.

  And yet in all my preparation and all my confidence, there was one thought that disquieted me. Festil my brother had gone to the dell and the cottage armed with naught but one white rose—and yet he had contrived to surpass me in the testing. “Aye, and for reward he lost his sight,” I answered my doubt. It was not my intent to become another blind man.

  Thus it was that I came forewarned and forearmed to the branching of the old road late in the sunlight of morning and took it to the grassy and beflowered dell that cupped the witch-work cottage of the Lady in White.

  There I tethered Leadenfoot, allowing him to crop the grass as he chose, and set about readying myself to approach the red door. From my satchel I removed the food, storing it under the wagonbench. Then into the satchel I placed all the tools and implements that were most like to be of use—rope, hammer, chisels, awls, nails, saw, shears, tongs. With that load heavy on my shoulder, I took the pitchfork in my right hand, hefted it a time or twain to be certain of its balance. I did not delay; I am not a man who hesitates. I addressed that safe-seeming red door and knocked at it with the haft of the pitchfork.

  For the third time, it opened inward to my knock. And for the third time, I saw no one within, heard no one approach or depart.

  I entered warily, alert for the creature of flame and fury. But all within that strange door was as I had seen it twice before. The stone hall stretched before me like the forecourt of an immense keep, far dwarfing the cottage that seemed to contain it. The huge logs in the great hearth burned brightly, and the sunlight slanted through the high windows. The pennons of the dead hung from the walls— but if they hung in derision of foolhardiness or in tribute to valor I did not know. And there in the center of the floor stood the small gilt-work table with the silver tray.

  I strode warily through echoes to the table; and when I gained it I saw on the tray the knife that I had made— my gift. Mayhap the Lady in White had declined to accept it. Or mayhap it had been left there as a sign that the way beyond the table was open for me. This I did not know also. But I did not delay to make the trial. I settled the satchel upon my shoulder, clenched the haft of the pitchfork, and stepped around the table.

  So I learned that my gift had not been refused, for I did not find myself without the cottage with the door locked against me. At once, my warmness grew keener. I walked on toward the arched entryway at the far end of the hall, but I walked slowly. I believe I did not breathe, so strong was my caution and my waiting.

  And then it came again, the scream that rent the air and echoed in the dim hall and chilled my blood in the warmest places of my heart. A cold wind blew, and the air became full of shadows. And the creature that made the screaming came down the wide stairs from the upper levels with its broadsword upraised and its eyes aflame ‘with murder.

  I dropped my satchel, turned to face the demon.

  Again it filled me with fear, and again it would have not shamed me to say that I had been unmanned. But I had found the thing of iron within me now, and I was prepared.

  As the creature ran screaming across the floor toward my throat, I swung with all my strength, hurling the pitchfork like a handful of spears.

  The tines bit the chest of the creature and sank deep. Such was the force of my throw that the creature was stricken backward, despite its speed. Its broadsword fell in a clatter against the stone, and the creature itself lay writhing for a moment on the floor, plucking weakly at the metal in its chest. Then on an instant it seemed to me that the creature was not a demon at all, but rather a woman in a white robe. And then the creature was gone, vanished utterly, taking broadsword and pitchfork with it. I was left alone in the great hall, with the logs that no man could lift ablaze in the hearth.

  “God’s blood!” muttered I to myself. But swiftly I shook off the wonder. I had not come so far to be unmanned by wonder. I lifted my satchel and walked away toward the arched entryway; and my stride was the stride of Mardik the blacksmith, strong and sure.

  But beyond that arch matters were not so certain. The entryway led to halls and chambers of great complication, and there were many passages and doors that I might choose. All were various, some spare and others sumptuous, and all had the appearance of habitation, as if the lordly people of this castle had left it only briefly and would return; but all were made of gray stone and told me nothing of the Lady in White. For a time,, I wandered hither and thither, making no progress. When I came upon one of the high windows, I could see by the sun that midday was passing.

  Then in vexation I stopped where I was and gave thought to my situation. I was in need of direction. But in this amazed place, east and west, inward and outward had no meaning. Therefore I must either climb or descend. And because that fell creature with the broadsword had come from the upper levels. I chose to go downward. Then at last I was able to advance, for there were many stairways, and many of them went down into the depths of this prodigious keep.

  So I descended, stair beyond stair; and the air became dark about me. Torches burned in sconces in the walls to light the passages—burned and did not appear to be consumed—but they were few and the halls were many. Therefore I took one of the torches, a brand the length of my arm, and bore it with me; and so I was able to continue my descent.

  Then of a sudden I came upon a chamber bright-lit and spacious, its walls behung with rich tapestries depicting I knew not what heraldic or sorcerous legends. And there in the center stood a low couch. And there on the couch lay a woman in black.

  She turned her head toward me as I entered; but at first my eyes were unaccustomed to the brightness, and I could not see her well. “Ah, man!” she hailed me, and her voice was the voice of a woman in need. “Rescuer! I beg of you—redeem me from my distress!”

  “What is your need, woman?” said I, seeking to clear my sight. But I knew already the name of her need. I had heard that need often before in the voices of women, and I saw no harm in it. I was prepared to answer it, for the sake of the Lady in White and her testing.

  “Ah, man!” she said to me in pleading. “I am loveless and alone. Life is a long misery, and there is no joy for me, for I am scorned and reviled everywhere. Help me, o man! for surely I can endure no more.”

  That had an unsavory sound to it; but still I was undaunted. I moved closer to her, blinking against the brightness.

  But then my sight cleared, and I saw her. She was hideous. Her raiment was not a black robe, but rather leper’s rags, and her hands were gnarled and reft with leprosy. I saw them well, for she extended them toward me beseechingly. They were marked with running sores, as her arms were marked, and her face also? Her hair hung in vile snatches from her head, and many teeth were gone from her gums, and the flesh of her face had been misshapen by illness, so that it seemed to be made all of bruises and scabs. Gazing upon her, I could not say which of them had become the greater, my loathing or my pity— for I was sickened by the sight of her, it’s true; and yet the deepness of her misery wrung my heart.

  But Festil had said, “You must find some answer to her need.” And verily, this was a test to pale all testing of gifts and demon-creatures. Again she cried out, “Help me, 0 man, I ‘beg of you! Ease my hurt.” Now I knew not what answer Festil my brother had given this leprous crone; but some answer he had given, that was certain, for he had not failed this test. And I knew of no answer but one—no answer but one that could stand aga
inst this piteous and abhorrent distress. Therefore I bethought me of the Lady in White, and with her image I spurred myself until my hands ached to feel her throat between them. Then I stepped forward to stand beside the couch.

  The woman’s hands reached pleading for mine; but I stooped and drew the knife from my boot and thrust it through her heart with one blow of my fist.

  Then on an instant it seemed to me that her face softened, and her hair grew thick and bronzen, and her lips became full, and her rags were whitest samite. And then she was gone, vanished as utterly as the demon-creature, and there was neither knife nor couch with me in the chamber.

  Then my anger came upon me again, and I vowed in my heart that the Lady in White would answer me for this. In my anger I did not delay. There was only one other doorway to this chamber. Taking up my satchel, I went out that way swiftly, hoping to come upon the Lady before she had prepared another and more foul test.

  But that way led only to a lightless passage; and the passage led only to a stout wooden door that was shut. No Lady was there. And no woman, though mayhap she was as swift as a deer, could have run the length of that passage to open and close that door before I entered the passage behind her. Yet did I not doubt that I had come to the proper place. For there was light beyond that stout door, light shining through the edges of the lintel and the space along the floor. And across the light a figure moved within the room from time to time, casting shadows that I could see.

  Therefore I did not question how the Lady in White had come to be beyond that door. indeed it’s true that in that place no swiftness or startlement seemed strange to me. Desire and anger burned in me like iron from the forge, and I gave no thought to matters that any sensible man might misdoubt. I went forward with the sole intent of entering the room beyond the door.

  I knocked; but there was no answer. I called out as courteously as I could. Still there was no answer. Soon it became clear to me that there would be no answer. The figure casting the shadows gave no heed to my presence.

  At first, I was filled by a need to shout and rage; but I mastered Without doubt, this door was the door of which Festil had spoken—another test. A simple enough thing in itself, after the fear and loathing of the tests I had overcome. Yet for a moment I was daunted; I was unsure of my reply to this test.

  My unsureness came from my belief that I knew what Festil’s reply had been. No doubt he had announced himself here and then had simply set himself to wait, possessing his soul in patience until the figure within the room deigned to take notice of him. And in this cottage I had come to understand that Festil my brother was not unwise. Loon and dreamer though he was, he had within him a thing that met this testing better than I.

  But I was Mardik the blacksmith, not Festil the dreamer; and after my meeting with the leprous woman there was no patience in me. I set down my satchel of tools and turned myself to a consideration of the door itself.

  It was made of heavy timbers,, ironbound and studded. Its hinges were set to open inward, and I could see through the crack along the lintel that it was held in place by a massive bolt which no strength of mine could break or bend. My first thought was to slip the blade of my saw through the crack to sever the bolt; but I did not, fearing that the figure within the room would not permit me to work unhindered. Therefore I turned to the hinges, and there I saw my way clear before me.

  There were but two hinges, though they were of thick black iron; and they were secured, high and low in the door, each by but one heavy bolt through the wood. “Aye, verily, my fine Lady,,” I muttered to myself. “Does all your testing come to this?” For I was Mardik the ironmonger and knew beyond doubt that those two bolts could not stand against me.

  In truth the iron of them was old beyond age, and they were no fair test for me. With chisel and hammer I sheared the head from the upper bolt in two blows. And in three the lower bolt failed before me.

  Then using the chisel I pried the wood toward me until the door slipped from its frame. Here I had need of strength,, for the timbers were heavy; but strength I had, and my chisel did not bend. And then light streamed into the passage, and the door was open.

  Snatching up my satchel,, I entered quickly and found myself in a large chamber like an alchemist’s laboratory. Worktables stood everywhere, and on them were vials and flasks of crystal,, small fires that burned without smoke, many-colored powders and medicines, and strange apparatus with a look of witchery about them. There was no source that I could discover to the light. Rather, the very air of the chamber seemed to shine.

  ‘And standing at one of the worktables across the room from me was the Lady in White.

  She was as radiant as my brightest remembering., as beautiful as the heavens. Her eyes shone starlike and fathomless, and her hair flamed in bronzen glory, and the whiteness of her robe was pure beyond bearing. At the sight of her, both my desire and my anger became as nothing for a moment, so great was the spell of wonder cast on me by her loveliness.

  But she regarded me with something akin to curiosity in her gaze, and something akin to humor on her lips; and this regarding made her human to me. The hot iron in me awoke. I cast wonder aside and went toward the Lady in White to take her.

  Yet I stopped again at once In astonishment. For at my approach the Lady turned to me and shrugged her shoulders; and with that simple gesture her white robe fell from her, and her bronzen hair fell from her, and her loveliness fell from her and was gone. In her place stood a tall man clad all in gray. His shoulders were stooped and his beard long; and on his grizzled hair he wore a pointed hat such as wizards wear. Curiosity and humor were there in his face; but there also were scorn and anger.

  “Very well, Mardik,” he said to my astonishment. “You have won your way to me. What is your desirer’

  But I could not have told him my desire. There was a hand of confusion upon me, and I could not have uttered the name of my desire, even to myself. I stared at the wizard like a calf and muttered the broken pieces of thoughts until at last I found the words to say, “Where is the Lady?”

  “There is no Lady,” he said without hesitation.

  “No Lady?” I said. “No Lady?” And then a great shame came upon me, for I had shed blood for the sake of that Lady; and my anger broke from me in a roar. “Then what was the purpose?”

  The wizard shrugged a shrug of scorn. “To disguise myself,” he said. “I have work before me, and to work my work I have need betimes for things from the village. Therefore I disguise myself, so that I will not be known for what I am. I have no wish to be prevented from my work by callow fools, importuning me for spells to make their cows fruitful and incantations to make their maidens avid, enchantments to speed childbirth and fend off old age.”

  “Then you are a fool!” I cried, for I was full of rage. “To disguise yourself you clothe yourself in a form that draws men here to die!—a form that no man can refuse in his desire!”

  “Mayhap,” said the wizard. But he gave no explanation. He turned from me as if he had no more use for me—as if he had tested me in the crucible and found me to be impure, base metal. And he said, “Nothing that your heart desires exists at all.”

  Thus he took the measure of my worth and discarded me.

  For there was no laboratory about me and no wizard before me. I stood on grass in the dell, and the air was dim with evening. The last light of the sun made the white walls of the cottage gleam strangely. All the windows of the cottage were dark, as if that place were no habitation for man or woman; and there was no smoke arising from the chimney.

  And the Lady in White stood before me.

  “Ah, Mardik,” she said gently,, “be comforted,” and her voice was a music that made my heart cry out within me. “My magic is strait and perilous, but it is not unkind.” Gently her arms came about my neck; and when her lips touched mine, all my desire and my anger melted, and I became helpless to meet or deny her kiss.

  Then she was gone. The Lady in White was gone. The cottage was
gone. Leadenfoot and my wagon were gone. The dell was gone. Even the branching which had brought me here from the old road was gone. The sun itself was gone, and I was left alone in the night and the Deep Forest.

  Then I wandered the woods in misery for a time, reft and loin. I was lost beyond all finding of my way, and there was no strength in me. My death was near at hand. I wandered among the inquiries of owls and flitted through madness like the flocking of bats and stumbled until I became an easy prey for any beast that might hunger for me. Lost there beyond help, it seemed to me that death was a good thing withal, comfortable and a relief from pain.

  Yet when I sought the ground and slept for a time and thought to die,, I did not die. I was roused by hands upon my shoulders; and when I looked up in the moonlight I saw blind Festil my brother bending over me.

  “Mardik,,” he said,, “my brother,,” and there was weeping in his voice.

  “Festil,” I said. “Ah, how did you find me?”

  “I followed the trail of your need, my brother,” said Pestil. “I have traveled this way before you and know it well.”

  Then weeping came upon me also, and I said, “My brother, I have failed you. For the wizard asked me to name my desire, and I did not ask him to restore your sight.”

  “Ah, Mardik!” he said; and now I heard laughter and joy through his sorrow. “Do you truly not understand the reason for my blindness? My brother, it is a thing of choice for me and in no way ill. For I also was asked to name my desire, and to this I gave answer, ‘It is my desire to gaze solely upon the Lady in White to the end of my days, adoring her beauty.’ That desire was granted to me. For her image is always before me, and my eyes behold no other thing.”

  Then my heart wept. Ah, Festil my brother! You are a loon and a dreamer, and you are a wiser man than I. But I did not speak aloud. I arose from the ground; and mad Festil took my arm and guided me despite his blindness and brought me without mishap to the old road. There I found Leadenfoot awaiting me in patience or stupidity, my wagon with him. Together Festil and I climbed up to the wagonbench, and I released the brake and took the reins in my hands; and together we made our way out of the Deep Forest.